Glass Box

**NOTE: This is an excerpt from a play I wrote called (dis)connection. "Solitudo" is a representation of Matt's loneliness and isolation.**

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(Lights up on MATT, who finds a sheet on a wall at school. He stops. SOLITUDO is behind him.)

SOLITUDO : No, no – what do you think you’re doing? We just figured out magic and now you want to audition for a play? What, you trying to get in with the artsy crowd?

(MATT raises his arm to sign up but SOLITUDO stops him.)

SOLITUDO : You won’t be able to use your cards there. Please -

MATT (snapping) : Just stop.

SOLITUDO (aback) : …stop what?

MATT : Why do you always try to stop me? Do you not want me to be happy?

SOLITUDO : Of course I do, I just –

MATT : Then why can’t I write my name down, huh? What’s the worst that can happen?

SOLITUDO : You could end up making a fool of yourself.

MATT : No I won’t.

SOLITUDO : But you could. Or how about if you just fail? Huh? What then?

MATT : I mean –

SOLITUDO : When you did your magic before, nobody cared if you sucked or not. To them, you were just some little explorer, in some stupid hobby. You were a kid. But now, they expect you to be a visionary, a free thinker… someone who builds something great.

MATT : But I’m only a –

SOLITUDO : I’m trying to keep you safe.

MATT : From what?

SOLITUDO : From the real world. I want to protect you. To keep us safe and happy. Don’t you want that?

MATT : Yes, but I need to connect with people in order to do that.

SOLITUDO : You’re too much of an idealist.

MATT : And you’re too much of a know-it-all.

SOLITUDO : You need to figure this out.

MATT : I’m trying.

SOLITUDO : No you’re not! You’re diving blind!

MATT : I’m taking a chance!

SOLITUDO : You don’t know how people really are!

MATT : Well neither do you!

(Pause.)

SOLITUDO: You know…

being close to you

is like watching you

in a glass box.

Some careful craftsman

put you into this specific cage.

This cage where

I can see your pain,

but I cannot help you.

I can see you go insane,

but there’s nothing I can do.

I can put my hand on the glass,

tell you that I’m here,

and that I’m a seer

into your heart,

I can still whisper

“I am always here”

when you’re falling apart.

I can say it,

but somehow the box has dampened your hearing,

the glass has tinted your vision,

because you never see

that I mean it.

I’m forced to watch life

throw you against the glass,

and demand your feeling from you.

I hate seeing you give it up.

It robs you of your happiness,

vandalizes your smile,

and hands you a fake one in return,

and all I can do

is watch,

watch it all happen.

I cannot conjure any words,

I cannot commit any action,

I cannot conceive anything

that will save you,

I only pray you

get through it.

I wish

I could take your spot

in that glass box,

that clear hell,

I wish that

whenever life pins you down

and demands your happiness,

I could go on in and say

“This one’s on me”,

I wish that

I could conjure words of hope,

I wish that

I could help you cope,

I wish that

I could get you out,

shatter the walls,

let the fragments of depression

hit the floor,

so you soak in life

as it was meant to be absorbed.

But I can’t.

I can only be a supervisor.

So I continue to stare

into this glass box,

hoping one day,

I can break those locks.

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